


Too Darn Hot

by grumpyphoenix



Series: Various Bangs [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas FlipFest 2019, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Trope Flip - Cuddling For Warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: It’s summertime, and Dean Winchester would love to spend some quality naked time with his boyfriend, Castiel. The problem is that the heat is relentless, and both of them are supposed to be working on their graduate degrees. The way he looks at Dean over those cute glasses has him begging on his knees and coming up with devious ideas to get Castiel’s pants off. Who cares if it’s too darn hot!





	Too Darn Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the amazing [Purgatory Jar!](https://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/). She is a joy to work with, and I'm just doing little writer cartwheels over here. 
> 
> Beta'ing done by [Cliophilyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/) the great. Check her stories out too, she's amazing!

Castiel falls backwards against the mattress. His lean torso is covered in a sheen of sweat, the yellowed light from the streetlamps outside the window highlighting one drop as it meanders its way down a sharp hip bone where his boxers ride, temping and low. Arching just a bit, he pushes his bedraggled hair out of his face and off his neck. The way it clings to him is just another reason for Dean to be grateful for whatever urge made him grow it a bit.

“Goddamn, it’s way too hot to exist right now.” Castiel’s eyes drift shut in exhaustion.

Dean swallows hard. It  _ is  _ too hot, and even he’s reached his limit. As beautiful as Cas looks right now, as much as he wants to spend all night licking the sweat off his neck, his hips, the insides of this thighs - touching each other now would be unbearable. 

This loft would command three times what they’re paying for it per month in a big city - but here in this podunk town the high ceilings and un-openable stained glass windows are what Sam refers to as ‘quirky’. There are only two windows that open, and one is in the bathroom. The other is tiny and “new”, meaning it probably got installed in the fifties. They’ve struggled it open and propped it with a cranky old box fan that revolves weakly, blowing hot air around. Right now Dean would give all of the quirky “cool” points their home has for a cookie cutter crap apartment with air conditioning and a handyman.

All the lights are off in a pathetic attempt to lessen the heat, and about an hour ago Dean dragged the mattress onto the floor near the window. Both of them have  _ piles _ of work due soon, but this summer has been brutal, and tonight is the worst yet. So instead of working, they’ve been lying here, watching movies on a laptop, and wishing for death. They even set the laptop on a chair so that they don’t have to spoon to see the screen.

The sound of students in the street below filters up, vague distant laughter and music played too loud. Friday night in town, the beginning of the bacchanalia. While summer on campus is quiet, every student who has an apartment in town has to stay. Summer also brings tourists from the city, and the combination is loud every weekend.

“How do they even move down there, much less pack into a crowded bar?” Dean grumbles. 

“Ah, youth. They have an infinite capacity to party.”

“We’re graduate students, Cas, not geriatrics. We’re not even thirty yet.”

“What’s that? I can’t make that out, let me turn on my hearing aid.”

“Do you want to get out of here? There’s bound to be somewhere with a working air conditioner. We could take our laptops up to the diner.”

Cas, eyes closed, shakes his head back and forth. “Broke this week, remember? Also, it means I’d have to get dressed.”

Dean eyes the laundry pile dubiously. It’s impressive, but the laundromat is even worse than their apartment; not air conditioned, filled with hot air, and boring. They’ve been avoiding it all week. 

“The library?” He tries, desperately. 

“Hmm air conditioned, open late on Friday and we can wear slobby clothing. But on the downside we’d have to walk there, and then once there, we’d have to do...work.”

Dean snorts, and Castiel turns his head, cracking an eye open to gaze at him. “Why are you trying to hustle us out of here so badly, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’m melting from the inside out?”

“Are you sure you don’t have another reason?”

Cas raises an eyebrow, expending effort to look imperious, and it has the effect it has every time he does it. Dean’s eyes track over Castiel’s body. Since he’d taken up running every morning, he’d changed from slim and bendy to muscular and bendy. Castiel’s thighs, in particular, give him the shivers. His boyfriend’s low chuckle breaks him out of it and he ducks his head in embarrassment and flops back onto the bed, eyes on the ceiling. Not on Cas. 

“Poor Dean. Too hot to touch.”

“Too hot to  _ not _ touch.” Dean winces, almost apologizes for the cheesiness, but Cas just smirks. 

“Cute, very cute. Turn the movie back on, I’ll get us a drink.”

Dean does, but his eyes linger on the shift of Cas’ boxers as he gets up, tugging on them a little. They’re so old and worn that the elastic is giving up the ghost, so they slip to hang a little on one side, every step a mishap waiting to happen. Cas doesn’t bother to turn the light on in the kitchen, and is briefly illuminated by the light in the fridge. He keeps puttering around after grabbing two beers, making clattering noises in the dark. Dean turns his attention to the screen. 

Bruce Willis is driving fast and emoting with his eyebrows by the time Cas folds down carefully to sit cross legged on the mattress, carrying beer and one of their small mixing bowls. He passes Dean a beer, his attention on the screen. 

Dean hauls himself up a little to take it. He can see the glistening of ice cubes inside the bowl, already melting, and he is more than a little intrigued. “What’s with the ice?”

Cas just smiles, putting the bowl on the floor behind himself. He steals Dean’s beer right out of his hand, taking a long swallow and ignoring his indignant squawk. Slowly, he leans down to ghost a kiss over Dean’s lips, whispering, “Lie down.”

Dean almost knocks the laptop off the chair and onto the floor in his haste to comply. Castiel runs the tips of his fingers over Dean’s face, as if memorizing his forehead, the line of his cheekbones, the soft give of his bottom lip. Blue eyes devour him obsessively. He plucks an ice cube from the bowl.

“Close your eyes.”

Dean lets them shut. 

There’s a pounding on the door. He shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge it, hoping it’ll go away. Cas makes a noise. 

“Don’t. Cas, don’t do it…”

“But, it could be important.”

Dean bangs his head against the mattress once. “It isn’t. It never is. It’s your brother, and he wants to show us some disgusting new trick he learned, or he’s like, really drunk, and he’ll throw up on the floor and pass out on our bed.”

The banging intensifies. Dean sighs, opening his eyes to look at Cas, who’s watching the door and biting his lip anxiously. 

“Ugh, fuck, fine.” Dean gets up and goes to the door, throwing it open with a snarl.

As predicted, it’s a drunken Gabriel, along with a crowd. Ignoring Dean’s angry protest, he pushes through into the apartment, a steady stream of their (also drunk) friends following him. Gabe bounces his eyebrows at Dean, giving his boxer-shorts-only outfit a leering look. Someone turns on the lights, and someone else changes the movie, and the night is over. Whatever it was going to be.

* * *

It’s still too fucking hot a few weeks later. Worse even than that, Dean has  _ not _ been able to get Cas to revisit whatever fun was going to be had with that bowl of ice. He isn’t sure if Cas is self conscious now, or just screwing with him. This Saturday afternoon brings with it ceaseless boredom and a listless sense of ennui. Castiel, carefully going through a paper and editing it at the table, has his glasses perched on the end of his nose. Dean’s lying on the floor, groaning and bitching about the heat, but so far his boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. He makes a long, loud sigh, flinging his limbs wide. Nothing. Completely unperturbed by Dean’s distress, Cas makes a mark with a pen, and a tsk noise under his breath. 

Dean tries again, loud and long, “Unnnnnnnnnngggggg….”

Calmly, not looking up from his work, he asks, “Can I help you with something?”

“How are you working on a Saturday? It’s Saturday. Save all that crap for Sunday. I’m bored!”

Cas looks over his glasses at Dean, and the scolding librarian look sets him off immediately. He sits up and knee-walks over, eyes fixated on the delicious way Cas’ worn jeans mold to the muscles of his thighs, and the gleaming temptation that is the zipper on his fly. He spreads his hands over the soft fabric, looking up into his eyes, licking his lips. Cas cups his hand under Dean’s chin and raises an eyebrow. 

“Dear heart. On Sunday I have to go to church, as you well know. That takes up a good portion of my day, and then the rest is taken up with family. They only visit once in a blue moon, so I have to at least pretend I care. Someone needs to make sure that Gabriel’s hangover is tended to so he doesn’t throw up on our mother. I  _ do _ notice that you, despite your protests, are doing nothing whatever today but lying on the floor.”

“Well,” Dean grouses. “It’s too hot, really. I’d love to go for a hike, but the woods are going to be sticky and full of bugs right now. Not like Fall.” 

Cas nods thoughtfully. “Fall is quite lovely on the trails. You are forgetting something, though. Remember that spot Dorothy and Charlie told us about?” 

Dean perks up. “The naked spot?”

Cas smirks, taking off his glasses and folding them. “Well, the skinny dipping spot. The water from the mountain is always quite cold, regardless of the time of year. We might… check it out. But  _ only _ if you leave me to my work when we get back.”

Dean hops up. “I’ll make us a picnic basket!”

Watching Dean bounce excitedly to their kitchenette, Cas murmurs, “You do that, Boo-boo.” 

The drive up the mountain is sweet. The sun is bright, and everything is hot, but driving just a hair too fast on these winding roads with the windows down and Zeppelin playing makes Dean’s blood sing. He’s also on his way to do something naked with Cas, which is the best part. This summer has been a desert for naked time. They park on the side of the road, in a small gravel space made for hiker’s cars, and head through the woods on the tiny trail.

Most of the mountain is park land with roads cutting through. Over the years the locals have found and ‘claimed’ some of the best spots to picnic or swim in the cool of the trees, and ferreting out these places is a game for some students. The fact that Dorothy and Charlie have learned the location of this place has become one of their best kept secrets; if too many of their classmates knew, everyone would be naked here. Neither Cas or Dean has gone yet. Too chicken, maybe. Too busy. 

When they break out of the trees and into the clearing, it is entirely worth every second of the confusing and bug-filled walk. Water from a mountain-fed river diverts here, flowing down through the cleft of ancient glacier-rock, making a waterfall that falls into a pool, just about waist deep. The water is clear and sweet, and all the rocks around the pool are large and flat, inviting to sit on. It’s also completely deserted. 

Dean and Cas look at it for a minute, as if daring one another. He knows that Cas won’t do it if Dean doesn’t, and suddenly his need to see Cas naked out here in the woods is so urgent that he can’t strip fast enough. Castiel feasts his eyes, but makes no move to get undressed himself. Shrugging, Dean lowers himself into the pool.

His intention is to give Cas a saucy look and invite him in, but the shock of the cold water on his overheated skin is just so orgasmically good, that he simply moans in gratitude. Holding his nose, Dean lets himself go boneless, dunking under into the cool, clear water.

When he comes up for air, Cas is jumping in with a splash, shouting something he can’t quite make out, coming up for air with a laugh and a whooping noise. Dean watches him enjoy the water, and then splashes him, making Cas cough indignantly. 

“Not fair! We come to have a good time, and then you just attack me?” He wilts, hanging his head, and crossing his arms, turning away. 

Dean blinks. “Wh.. Cas, I’m sorry.” 

Cas just sniffs. Alarmed, Dean comes towards him, reaching out to hug or touch him. Cas springs into action, splashing him full in the face, cackling, “SUCKER!”

The next few moments are filled with breathless laughter as they wrestle in the pool, ending with Cas pressed against the side of the large rock, partly under the waterfall as Dean kisses him, hard and wanting against Cas’ thigh. 

Cas uses the leverage of the rock and buoyancy of the water to wrap his legs around Dean. “You could take me like this. I weigh nothing here.” 

Dean cups his hands under Castiel’s ass, drinking in the sight of him. Water droplets sparkle on his eyelashes, his dark hair is wet and curling around his cheeks, and Dean wants him. Cas is smiling, stress free for the first time in weeks, the relaxation reaching all the way to his eyes, blue and perfect. 

Dean kisses Cas on the lips gently, then on his cheeks, his neck. “Marry me,” he whispers into the skin there. 

Cas jerks. “What?” 

Dean pulls back, looks into Cas’ eyes, and opens his mouth. 

The sky erupts in lightning and thunder, a great rolling boom interrupting him before he can speak. There’s a startled moment of inactivity, and then they hurry out of the water just as the skies open and let loose a deluge of rain. Getting back into their clothing isn’t easy, but they manage soaked jeans well enough and start back through the woods. 

It’s stopped raining by the time they get back to the car, covered in mud and scratches. Castiel is scowling, but Dean can’t bring himself to be upset. His boyfriend is adorable, soaked and annoyed, a wet leaf plastered to his cheek. Of course, the air is no cooler than it was before, the moisture still cloying, the air humid and gross. Cas is asleep almost as soon as his butt hits the seat, so Dean drives back listening to Blue Oyster Cult, his good mood unabated.

* * *

“How did I let myself get roped into this?” Dean grumbles, adjusting the crotch of his shorts. 

Gabriel grins around the lollipop in his mouth and tosses a towel at him as they walk. Dean catches it neatly. “It’s for our sister’s sorority, suck it up, Winchester.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, following Gabe out of the sorority house. “Look, I get that they needed some dudes for their charity car wash, but these shorts are way too-” 

They come out onto the porch, and Dean’s struck dumb for a second. Cas is washing a car, shirtless, covered in soap and water, and he’s wearing the smallest pair of running shorts Dean has ever seen. 

Gabe snorts, gently pushing up on Dean’s jaw to close his mouth. “Take your shirt off, genius. And don’t forget sunscreen.”

“Sunscreen. Right.” Dean pulls his shirt up over his head, watching as Cas flirts shamelessly with the woman paying him. 

The sun is scorching, but at least the cloying humidity is gone, leaving the weather perfectly suited to spraying everything with water. Anna and her sorority sisters bounce back and forth cheerfully, hauling buckets of soapy water to and fro, leaning too far over to clean cars with oversized sponges. They’d also wrangled Dean’s brother into the mix, Sam’s ridiculous bulging muscles drawing more than half the female customers. Gabe somehow managing to avoid shirtless beefcake duty, works to coordinate everything so the line goes smoothly. 

Late afternoon, Sam corners him with a bottle of spray-on sunscreen and some water. “Hydrate. Put more of this on, you’re looking a little like a lobster.” 

Dean ignores the sunscreen but takes the water absently, swigging it while he watches Cas laughing at something some guy in a car is saying. 

“You know he’s all yours, don’t you?”

Dean swallows hard. 

“Well, he is. Besotted. All Gabe can talk about is how pissed their mother is that Cas isn’t ever coming back to marry a nice rich girl.”

“I keep wanting to ask him to marry me, but I lose my nerve every time. Plus I can’t afford a ring or anything, and I never will. He deserves better, Sam.”

Sam shakes the spray can. “Close your eyes. None of us want to deal with you with sun poisoning.” He starts to spray sunscreen on Dean’s back and arms. “Look, for what it’s worth, I don’t think he cares about that. I think he’s just waiting to see if you’re going to stick around.”

“He...what?”

“Tilt your head back.” Sam moves around him to spray in the front. “This is the longest you’ve ever been with anyone. You have a reputation.”

Dean grabs the sunscreen out of his brother’s hand irritably. “No. Sam, I love him.” 

Sam takes him by the shoulders and shakes him a little. “Then go ask him. Right now, ringless and everything. You have to tell him how you feel.”

Then his brother shoves him towards Cas, who is accepting dollars one at a time from the douche in the sports car. He’s flirting! He’s  _ flirting  _ and all Dean wants is to kiss his lips and show him that he loves him, that he needs him.

Right. Yes. He can do this. He walks through the soaking wet parking lot. Anna runs by him screaming, chased by one of the other girls wielding the bucket of suds. Dean sidesteps them neatly without even looking. Gabriel tries to stop him to talk, but Dean just hands him the can of sunscreen and keeps walking, laser-focused on Cas.

When he gets there, Cas looks up at him, breathless with laughter, his eyes bright with a smile. “Hey, Dean.” 

Dean is all nerves now, he swallows hard. “Uh, hi..Cas, can we talk?”

The guy in the car clears his throat. “Hey, do you mind? We were having a conversation here.”

Dean glances at him absently, and then turns his attention back to Cas. “I have to...I have to say this now. Please, before I lose my nerve.”

Castiel rubs Dean’s arm gently. “Hey, it’s okay. Go ahead, sweetheart.”

He opens his mouth, but car guy butts in again. “Excuse me. Can I at least have my change?”

Dean whirls on the guy, growling, “You don’t get change. That’s a tip. Fuck off, asshat. And seriously, who wears a suit in this heat.”

The man sputters angrily, and he’s saying something, but Dean could not give a crap. All his attention is on Cas.

Dean takes a knee and looks up at his boyfriend, who is watching him with a trace of a smile on his face. Somewhere behind him, he can hear a chorus of squealing sorority girls, and Gabriel making gagging sounds.

“Castiel, would you do me the honor of-” 

The guy in the car, still angrily ranting about his money, opens the car door, intent on yelling some more, but it opens too far and smacks Dean in the head. 

When he opens his eyes, he instantly wishes he hadn’t. The light is too bright, and everything smells faintly of antiseptic. Castiel, sitting tiredly in the nearby chair, closes his book, index finger keeping his place. 

“Well,” he says with an arched eyebrow, “At least it’s cool in here.”

* * *

Two weeks later is no better. An ‘extreme weather warning’ pops up on Dean’s phone, telling people that the combination of eighty percent humidity and triple digit heat is deadly, so they’ve been camped out in the library as long as possible. It’s great for Castiel’s thesis, but Dean is dying. His concussion is mostly behind him, but there’s only so much brain power he can muster right now. He’s desperate for some kind of physical contact with his boyfriend, but outside of the cool confines of the library, neither of them wants to so much as hug the other one.

Cas seems unruffled by it, which just makes it worse. His utter indifference to Dean’s burning need to get inside his pants just makes Dean want it more. The first few days of the unrelenting killer heat, he tries to corner Cas in the stacks for some makeout time, but the place is crawling with summer students and because they don’t check school ID at the door, probably a pile of townies too, all looking for a free place to sit in some AC. There’s just no place to be private. 

Another Friday comes, but Dean won’t let it go without a fight.  _ This  _ weekend is the county fair, and he’s taking Cas, even if he has to sling the man over his shoulder and manhandle him into the car. He’s scrimped and saved for weeks for this, and it’s left him with a significant pool of money. Come hell or high water, he’s going to blow the whole lot tonight. They haven’t talked about the almost-proposal at the carwash, and Dean figures that means that Cas doesn’t want him to ask again. That’s fine, it’s cool. 

Okay, it’s not cool, but he’s going to think about it later. Summer is almost over, and he wants to have fun.

It’s late afternoon, and Cas has picked a table on the third floor of the library. It’s wedged against a window, bright sunlight streaming over everything. He’s squinting to see the screen of his laptop, papers strewn everyplace. In the sun, the air conditioning has less effect, leaving them both cold and sweating at the same time, which is weird.

Dean puts a bottle of soda down. “Sadly, the library hasn’t restocked that thing any time in the last decade. Diet Orange or Diet Sprite?”

Castel reaches for the Sprite with a sound of disgust, not looking up from the screen. Dean sits across from him, poking at his own drink dejectedly. “You know, we’ve been coming here to escape the sun. Why are we sitting at this table?”

“Everyone else is avoiding it, so I can have at least a little peace without having to put on headphones.”

Cas absently unscrews the bottletop, and takes a long swig of soda. Closing his eyes, he says, “That was even worse than I imagined.”

Dean watches him get back to his work, running a finger absently over a gouge in the table where decades of other students have done the same. It’s deep, but smooth, and he loses half a second wondering how it got there before he realizes he’s stalling.  _ Now or never, Dean. _

“Soo…. Cas, it’s Friday.” 

“The many thousands of dollars you’ve borrowed for your education were not wasted, I see.”

“Hilarious.”

Cas smiles to himself as he rifles through his papers, making a mark in highlighter.

“C’mon, you’re not going to work through the entire weekend  _ again _ , are you?”

“Well, no. I intend to go to church on Sunday, if I can drag my brother out of bed.”

“Fuck, Cas.”

He looks up, staring right into Dean’s eyes. “No, it’s far too hot for that.” 

Drowning in the heat coming off that gaze, Dean swallows and adjusts himself in the chair, not missing the almost savagely pleased look that Cas has on his face. He pushes forward, trying to ignore the instinct to bend him over this table.

“Come with me to the Fair. We’ll go at night, and it’ll be hot, but there won’t be any sun. We’ll play games and eat cotton candy, ride some rides.”

Castiel frowns. “How would we afford it?”

“Let me worry about that. Just...just come with me. Put the books down, and let me bring you. There’s cows and sheep. Junk food. Ladies fighting over who won the pie recipe contest.” 

Sensing Cas’ resolve wavering, Dean falls to his knees on the floor and shuffles over to Cas, arms outstretched, provoking a chorus of laughter from a group of students going by. 

“Please, baby, I’m begging you!” He lays his head on Castiel’s knee and bats his eyes. 

Castiel traces his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip, making him shiver. “I’d love to see you on your knees for another purpose, if only being out in the heat didn’t turn us both into a sticky puddle.”

Dean groans, banging his forehead lightly on Cas’ thigh. With a tight smile, Cas packs up his things. “Ok, come on handsome, get up and buy me a cotton candy.”

* * *

The county fair is a half hour away. Their college is in a tiny town in the mountains, but the fairgrounds is seriously in the middle of nowhere. They drive by farms as the sun starts to set, heading for the glowing lights and the sound of classic rock blown through huge speakers, loud enough to rattle the teeth out of your head. 

The line to get in is long. While they wait, Castiel bounces on his toes a little. Dean slips an arm around his waist with a grin. “Can’t wait, huh?”

“You found me out. I went to one of these a few times as a kid, I have good memories.” 

They pass into the entrance, and Dean pays. “Well, I’m ready to make some more. What shall we do first, gorgeous?”

To one side are the sounds of the rides - machinery, loud music, happy screams and whoops of joy. The games are nearby, workers calling out to passers-by, “just a dollar, two plays for a dollar, everybody is a winner!” The smell of peanuts, cotton candy and hot dogs floats by on a breeze. Castiel’s eyes go wide and he flashes a rare unguarded smile, running towards the games, Dean in tow.

He makes Dean play the rifle-shooting game, ignoring his grumbling about how the thing pulls to the left. After a few tries, Dean finally gets the hang of how it’s rigged, and wins Cas a huge, hideous, teal stuffed bear that Dean immediately dubs “Gabriel Jr.” over Cas’ laughing protests.

They play whack-a-mole, toss rings around milk bottles, throw darts at balloons. When Cas wants to play the kiddie game where you pick up ducks, Dean begs off to get some snacks. The prizes are all small: Keychains, cute rings with pink plastic diamonds, posters. Castiel’s glee seems entirely nostalgia based, and unstoppable. Dean leaves in search of the fried dough place as Cas starts the first of several games he’s paid for. When he comes back laden with food, Cas is sitting on a nearby bench, swinging his legs and playing with his new glittery keychain. Dean sits beside him and offers him the plate of dough, covered liberally with powdered sugar.

Cas rips off a piece and chews thoughtfully. “I can’t believe I’m eating this.” 

Dean grins around a mouthful. “It’s the fair, you can skip the health food for once. Calories don’t count here.”

“Dean, what happens when we’re done?”

“Well, we can go on rides, or play more games. We can go see the 4H exhibit, or look at the silly flower arrangements.”

“No, I mean, when we’re done with our degrees. I know next May sounds like an eternity away, but it’s less than a year now. I love this town, the friends we have here. I love  _ you.” _

Dean pulls Cas around to look at him. “Listen, the friends we’ve made here, we’ll always have them. Just try getting rid of Kevin, or Charlie. And it’ll take more than suddenly needing to get an actual professional job to get rid of me, baby. But hey, if you want, we can just keep picking up graduate degrees, be students forever.” 

Cas shudders. “No, thank you.”

“Anyway, we’ll have time to worry about that later. Pick a ride.”

Cas smiles wickedly. “The Ferris Wheel.”

Dean groans.

Cas just looks at him. Dean points at the giant spinning top. “How about the Gravitron? It’ll be fun. You can slide up and down on the wall.” 

Cas crosses his arms. Desperately, Dean says, “The pirate ship? The swing ride?”

“The. Ferris. Wheel. I promise I won’t let you fall off.”

“If you are implying that I am afraid of falling off the ferris wheel, you can just forget it. I’m not scared of that thing!”

Cas steers him towards it. They walk through the midway, different rock music pumping out of each ride, lights flashing. Teenagers in groups run from line to line. Dean dumps the remains of their snacks, and tries to get Cas to go on the Tilt-O-Whirl instead, but he’s firmly manhandled into the line for the wheel. 

When they get up to the front, Cas talks to the woman operating the ride, eventually passing the giant bear over to her while Dean sits. 

“She has assured me,” Cas says as he settles in and the attendant locks the bar firmly, “That no one has ever died on this Ferris wheel.” 

Dean glares at Cas as the ride slowly rotates, letting more people on. As it fills up, they begin to rise higher and higher, the seat swinging a little. He grabs onto the side, afraid at first, and then slowly relaxes into it. When they get to the top, they stop. There’s a lovely breeze, and the stars are bright above them, the fair spread out below them as a sea of twinkly lights. Laughter floats by, the roar of the music muted.

Cas leans over and kisses him. Dean runs his hands through Castiel’s hair, opening his mouth greedily to accept everything Cas will give him. He flips up a middle finger when someone in a seat below him makes a wolf whistle.

“ _ Ladies and Gentlemen,”  _ the ride operator announces on a megaphone  _ “there is a mechanical difficulty. Please stay calmly in your seats until the ride can move once more.” _

Cas tightens his grip on Dean, who instantly starts to panic. “I repeat, no one has ever died on the ferris wheel, and it’s not starting today.”

Dean smiles tightly. “Distract me.”

“Okay… well, why haven’t you tried to ask me to marry you again?”

Dean tenses. “I was hoping for more making out, honestly.”

“Maybe later. Why not?”

“I guess I had to work myself up to it again. Well, Sam helped. I dunno, Cas, I mean. You’re all class, and I’m dirt poor, and I come from a really weird family. I guess I just wasn’t sure...”

“That’s bullshit, man!” A voice from the chair directly below their feet calls out. “Love is more than that!”

There’s a quiet angry shushing noise from the other person down there. Dean calls out irritably, “Mind your own business!”

Cas laughs. “He’s right. Love  _ is _ more than that. Plus your family isn’t weirder than mine, and I adore your brother.”

“I - I just can’t afford the kind of ring you deserve.”

Castiel cups Dean’s chin. “Is that what’s bothering you? The lack of a ring?”

The voice from below yells up again, “He doesn’t care about a ring, just ask! That stuff’s not important!”

A woman from below them on the other side says, “Oh shut up! You have no idea what you’re talking about. That stuff’s important.”

They begin bickering with each other, and Cas, laughing, lets go of Dean.

He lowers his voice a little. “If it’s the lack of a ring that’s a problem, allow me.”

Castiel produces a ring from his pocket. It’s a sparkly green, with a big shiny green plastic diamond heart on it. “Dean Winchester - “

Dean, stunned, says, “Did you win that at the duck game?”

“Yes, Dean, focus, I’m proposing here.”

Proposing? Dean blinks stupidly, and then looks up into Castiel’s eyes. 

“Better. Ok, Dean Winchester, will you be my husband, even though neither of us will ever be rich, and even though my brother will doubtlessly get drunk enough to hit on your brother during our wedding reception?”

Dean, feeling the weight of doubt slip off him like a ton of bricks, takes in Castiel’s earnest and worried face, the breezy beautiful night. He inhales a long, deep cleansing breath and lets it out, the tension in his back and shoulders dissolving. Castiel loves him. 

“You love me.” He smiles, almost giddy with the realization. “You really love me.”

Cas’ forehead furrows, and he shakes the ring a bit, impatient. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Yes, it is. Castiel, I will be your husband, and there’s no way we’re letting Gabriel get that drunk at my wedding.”

Castiel tries to put the ring on Dean’s finger, and there’s some trial and error before they realize it’s adjustable. Then he kisses Dean, pressing him back against the seat so hard that they wobble dangerously. 

“Hey, I think the little guy asked the poor guy to marry him!” Everyone in earshot on the wheel cheers and claps. Dean hides his face. 

As if on cue, the ride starts to move again, eventually letting them off. Dean suggests that they leave quickly before the folks in the other seats decide to throw them a wedding shower.

As they collect the hideous bear and make their escape, Dean asks. “Cas, can we have the wedding … in the winter?”

Cas grins, pulling him in for a kiss again, the bright whirling lights highlighting his face in blues and greens. “As I intend to have you as many ways as possible on our wedding night, I think it had better be.”

They head off through the crowd, and Dean thinks, despite the heat, that this is the best summer he’s ever had.


End file.
